


What We Are

by fictionsofthemind



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Canon, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Gap Filler, Gendrya - Freeform, Smut, They talk, Uses dialogue from the show, and gendry is soft, because they didn't just fuck once and go to bed thanks, night before the battle of winterfell
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-10
Updated: 2019-06-10
Packaged: 2020-04-24 06:34:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19167766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fictionsofthemind/pseuds/fictionsofthemind
Summary: Gendry hopes to break through Arya's cool exterior when he brings her the weapon he made her, but she takes him by surprise by seducing him. What happens when the scene ended. CW: Explicit sexual content. Gap fillers in canon season 8.





	What We Are

**Author's Note:**

> Gendry and Arya filler scenes that could be canon in season 8, starting with episode 2 during the night before the Battle of Winterfell. Mostly Gendry's POV. Dialogue in the first part is NOT my own, it is from the show. Might write more post-battle and pre and post-proposal stuff to fix that mess. You can follow me on tumblr @ watersandwolves

She was practicing in the corridor when he found her. Arya’s gaze was concentrated, calculated as she sent arrows into the air, fatally slicing through enemies that were imaginary now but would be all too real come morning. Gendry paused in the shadows, admiring her in what he always knew was her element. She had been a fighter before he met her, so it didn’t surprise him that she continued to be one after they parted ways. Or, were separated - Gendry wasn’t sure which of these was more accurate. Arya being Arya, she had only become more skilled over the years, and there was now something deadly about the way she moved, not just when sparring or practicing, but all the time. She had always been capable of taking down a man twice her size with any weapon, but now it was her stillness that was threatening. The way she could move silently, without detection, a steely expression her near constant accessory. He was used to her fury - used to the chatty, unapologetic, brash girl he traveled with for so long. It was this new reserve that was unsettling to him. It’s not that he was afraid of her, although he suspected he could have reason to be. It was unnerving because her reserve and her deadly skills were reminders of how long they had been apart, and that a great deal must have passed to have transformed her into the woman who was practically splitting her own arrows down the middle as she hit her target perfectly again and again.

As happy as he was to see her alive and apparently stronger than ever, Gendry had only become more troubled by their distance. He had gotten glimpses of the old-Arya before - in the forge when his teasing made her smile in spite of herself. He experienced a lot of guilt over the years, but now that they had been reunited he felt more guilty than ever that she had been left to fend for herself as a child. He would have done anything to break through that hard exterior, but it was clear that Arya wasn’t so conversational these days, and he knew that if she wanted to share with him then she would do so on her own time. But would they have time? Death felt almost certain and he didn’t want to face it with so many things left unsaid to her. 

Gendry approached her slowly then, allowing his footsteps to be heard. But she didn’t break her concentration until he was near, giving no acknowledgment of his arrival until she turned to face him in the fire light. 

Gendry was bundled in Northern furs, which was the most clothing she had seen him in since he had arrived a few days before. The heat of the forge made it unnecessary to cover up in what was elsewhere unforgiving winter weather. Even now indoors the wind found its way around their ankles and at the backs of their necks, caressing them with the promise of battle. 

Arya looked at him expectantly and a small smile pulled at his lips. In his hands he bore a gift - the weapon she had requested. 

“Is that for me?” She asked coolly while already taking it from Gendry’s gloved hands. He watched her as her eyes began to glow, turning the staff over and over with deft movements. “This will work,” she smiled softly, genuinely pleased with what he had made her. She was running her hands over the shaft, turning it about to inspect the dragon glass blade.

Gendry was pleased he could provide her with something she approved of. She looked so calm despite what was coming, but then again she had never feared pain nor injury nor death. The light from the torches flitted across her face, and he was suddenly overcome by how beautiful she was standing there steadily, weapon in hand. He took another step toward her, his mind still running over everything he was afraid to both know and not know. 

“Last time you saw me, you wanted me to come to Winterfell,” he offered. Maybe they could start with where they left off. “Took the long road, but…” he trailed off, waiting for her to play along. She did. 

“What did the Red Woman want with you?” Arya moved toward him, gently swinging her new weapon dangerously close to his person - he had to side step to avoid a slice. He moved to where she had been standing a moment before and sighed, darkly recalling his time with Stannis Baratheon’s crew. 

“She wanted my blood. Some kind of spell,” he stated, knowing what would have to be revealed next. 

“Why your blood?” Arya asked with the air of casual disinterest, still turning her spear over. 

Gendry looked back at her. He looked right at her and conceded, “I’m Robert Baratheon’s bastard.” 

That got her full attention. She stopped swinging the weapon and her eyes widened, silently processing this information while he continued. “I didn’t know until she told me. She tied me up, stripped me down, put leeches all over me,” Gendry was a bit exasperated at the memory. He thought he saw the same feeling in Arya’s face, but she quickly became expressionless again and continued her pacing. 

“Was that your first time?” she asked casually, no longer facing him. 

_What kind of question is that?_ he thought. “Uh, yeah..I’d never had leeches put all over me..”

“Your first time with a woman.” She cut him off, still pacing away from him. 

“ _What?_ ” He nearly recoiled at the question, instantly flustered. Where was she going with this? He walked over to where Arya was setting her weapon down. “I wasn’t _with_ her.” He was shaking his head, growing more confused by the moment. The conversation had very suddenly gotten away from him. 

“Were you with other girls?” Arya was completely calm, removing her leather gloves slowly as she questioned him. “Before that, in Kings Landing? Or after?” She looked at him innocently, as if she had been making small talk about the weather. 

Gendry was beside himself with confusion and embarrassment. He didn’t come here to talk to her about other girls. He wanted to talk about _her_ and what had happened to make her into the person she now was. They had never talked about something like this before, something which had felt quite irrelevant until only a moment ago. They might die in the morning and she wanted to recount his sexual history? Gendry could no longer get the words out. He sputtered under her scrutiny. 

“You don’t remember?” Arya’s eyes narrowed. She was going to get what she wanted, true to her nature. 

“I….Yes, I was,” Gendry revealed, glancing at her again. 

“One? Two?” She began circling him as if he were prey. “Twenty?” she suggested. 

“I didn’t keep count,” he was disgruntled now, his eyes trained on her ever-calm face. 

Arya didn’t fall for that one. “Yes you did,” she stated, knowingly. She was right, of course. 

Gendry sighed. “Three,” he finally shared, and found himself unable to do anything but stare at her incredulously. Arya seemed to be satisfied with his answer. She held his gaze then and did not let it go. She stepped toward him slowly and confidently, and he began to feel himself freeze to the spot, suddenly unable to move. His body seemed to know what was happening before his mind did. 

“We’re probably going to die soon,” she started matter-of-factly. 

_Oh._

Then, softly, “I want to know what it’s like before that happens.” 

She was so close now, and Gendry felt his mouth go slack. He wanted to tell her how he felt - he had barely gotten a word in since she began directing the conversation. _Typical Arya after all_ , he thought. Her closeness brought her scent to his attention - she smelled like the woods, and he felt transported to a different time with the same girl. He could feel the summer breeze of the Riverlands and hear the echo of her laughter bouncing through the forest. And he felt pain and longing twisted into one, begging to be unravelled. 

His voice was rough with emotion, “Arya, I..” But she silenced him with her mouth, her hands grasping the side of his face. 

He stopped trying to think and willingly surrendered to her. He kissed her back with an urgency he had underestimated, keeping his head pressed to hers when their mouths parted for air. He grabbed her waist firmly and pulled her to him, not willing to sacrifice any amount of potential closeness. Arya was already tugging at his belts, so he shed his fur and his hands went to unlacing her jerkin. She was a woman on a mission and he didn’t dare deter her. Together, they pulled his shirt up over his head and cast it aside, diving back to each other’s mouths as much as possible. 

She shoved him then, as he used to be accustomed to being shoved by her, into the haystack behind him. The action itself wasn’t shocking, but splayed on his back he was perplexed by the image of Arya Stark removing her top. He was already breathing heavily, anticipating her bare flesh. 

And when she did so, his eyes immediately dropped to a series of brutal scars under her breasts. They were healed, but had clearly been deep. Gendry was filled with alarm, and his mind began racing once more with all he feared he had missed. Arya paused, knowing what he was staring at without having to follow his gaze. She wasn’t interested in stopping to explain. 

“I’m not the Red Woman,” she said, bringing his attention back to her face. “Take your own bloody pants off.” 

Gendry realized he hadn’t moved at all since she had pushed him onto the hay. He rapidly obeyed, undoing the ties to his pants and slipping them off as she did the same. She approached him then, flipping her hair over her shoulder as she lowered herself to straddle him. She placed her hands gingerly on the hay on either side of his head. He was still staring at her, deeply perplexed but incredibly pleased. She looked into his eyes for a moment more before bending to kiss him again, more softly this time. 

He reached up to cup her face with one hand while circling her waist with his other arm. He pulled her down so that her full weight rested on his lap, connecting her inner thighs with his hips and pressing what was warm and wet between her legs to his hardening cock, causing them both to sigh quietly in pleasure. He trailed his fingers over her back and tentatively placed his hand over the scars on her side, unsure if she would mind this action. Arya responded by kissing him harder and grinding herself into his pelvis. 

They couldn’t bear to stop kissing, deeply hungry for the other’s closeness. But Gendry parted with her mouth in favor of her breast, taking a nipple onto his tongue and sucking. Arya tilted her head back and moaned, running her hands over the short hairs of his head. Her moaning was exquisite, so he took to biting what was already in his mouth, gently first, then not so gently. Arya shuddered, suddenly finding it more difficult to keep herself propped up on her knees. She leaned backward into Gendry’s grasp as he gave attention to her other nipple and reached down to feel his hardness with her hand. He was warm beneath her, and rubbed the head of his cock against her slit. He groaned then and tilted his head back against the hay again closing his eyes for a moment but then opening them so he could take in the sight of her. She stooped to kiss him again, tracing her tongue over his bottom lip. “Ready,” she breathed, and he wasn’t sure if it was a question or a statement but she began angling herself to insert him into her. He helped her with this, placing his hand over her own and guiding his cock to her entrance. Gendry found her eyes once more and she was already looking at him, a slight furrow between her brow. They didn’t break eye contact as her lips parted and she slowly sunk down onto him. She whimpered slightly and Gendry moved his hands to her hips as she moved at her own pace, adjusting to his length by taking him little by little. 

After a moment she settled at the base of his cock and he began thrusting inside her, eliciting louder moans than what he had heard before. “Fuck,” he groaned, and she increased their pace, pressing her forehead into his for balance. He matched her speed and their thighs slapped together each time they met in the middle, radiating warmth from all the points they were connected. 

Arya was active. She hadn’t done this before but wasted no time in figuring out what worked best for her. She was keeping Gendry on his toes by managing to hit a variety of angles just sitting on his lap. She became very focused, as she did when she honed her craft, and he felt an added layer of admiration just for being privy to it. He planted kisses down the side of her neck and bit around her collarbone. She took one of his hands then and placed it between her legs and he rubbed her there, soft skins gathered where they were anchored together. Arya gasped as he pushed his cock even further inside her and his other hand wandered all over the rest of her, wanting to touch everywhere but too eager to settle in one place. 

They could both feel a climax building. Arya took what she wanted, and what she wanted would come with even faster thrusting. She bounced up and down on him rapidly and Gendry nearly struggled to keep up, quickly getting to a point of no return. 

“Arya,” her name felt new in his mouth. But he couldn’t manage to say much more than that, he was almost to the edge. 

“Hold on,” she pleaded, or maybe ordered. _As m’lady commands_ , he thought. He found his strength then and wound himself around her, lifting her up swiftly while buried inside her and placing her back on the haystack. He moved inside her again at the speed she had left off with, now able to keep up while crouched over her. Arya cried out in pleasure then, his thrusts coming with more force. She brought her own hand to her clit this time and rubbed in the way she was familiar with, Gendry was astounded to see. He brought his mouth back to her nipple and she cursed. And cursed again. She was squeezing around his cock, and her legs quivered around him as her eyes rolled back into her head. She howled a high pitched note, reaching her climax, and Gendry held onto her as contorted and shook, her own pleasure pushing him over the edge, letting out a growl of his own. 

He slowed then, moving inside her as they both came down. Their labored breathing was the only sound other than ringing in their ears. Gendry searched for her eyes again, holding himself up over her. They were closed, but her hand still grasped his forearm. He kissed her stomach and then pulled out, instantly missing the connection. She opened her eyes then and they looked at each other with uncertainty. Gendry could help but let out a low laugh, and Arya returned with a smug smile. 

He rolled onto his back beside her and reached for his fur to cover them. She was suddenly studying the ceiling, he noticed, slipping back into her hardened exterior no doubt. _Not yet_ , he thought, and reached one arm under her shoulders and the other to her waist. Arya opened her mouth to protest, but he beat her to it. “This is happening,” he said with a definite tone and pulled her to him. Once he was holding her, she didn’t seem to object. She even rested her head quietly against his chest, and Gendry swore she was trying to inhale his scent. 

He held her close to him, anxious to let go. His eyes wandered once more to the scarring on her side, and he was reminded of the violence that was approaching them rapidly. He traced those scars with his thumb, worry crossing his face. When he looked back to Arya she was already searching his face, perhaps waiting for his questions. But there were too many to choose from so he kissed her instead, slowly. When he pulled away she had an amused expression on her face. 

“So, how was your fourth time with a woman?” He was happy to see she was teasing him. 

“Life-changing,” he chose sincerity, knowing any answer would amuse her. “You’re like a wolf in more ways than one.” 

A smile spread over her face and she gave him a playful shove. “Better than being called a lady, I suppose.” 

He scoffed, “Some of that was truly unladylike.” He couldn’t resist kissing her forehead. 

She rolled her eyes and put her head back on his chest. He smiled to himself, pleased she chose to place herself there. In the silence, he floated through the thousand or so questions in his head and stroked her hair. 

“Arya…” he started once more, “Arya, what - I mean… _how_ …” he sighed, frustrated with where to begin. He turned her head to face her again, holding her face close to his own. “I’m just so sorry, I - “

“What are you talking about?” She interrupted his stuttering in hopes he would clarify. 

He put his hand back on the scars and felt a tightness in his chest. “You were alone and you shouldn’t have been. It’s my fault, I’m so sorry.” 

She searched his watery blue eyes carefully. “Gendry,” she began, “It’s in the past. You don’t have to worry about it,” her voice was cool and collected again. “And I wasn’t alone, not usually. I was with the Hound for quite some time, and then there were others.” 

This confused him further. “The Hound? Doesn’t sound like incredible company to me. I…should have stayed with you, protected you,” _loved you,_ he added mentally. 

“I didn’t need to be protected,” she defended herself but was still cool. 

“That’s what you always said. And I believe you, really. Especially now. But…” his hand rubbed her scars carefully, “This makes me feel otherwise. This makes me afraid for you.” 

“I doubt the white walkers fight like the woman who gave me these scars. But they are just as dead as she is.” 

Gendry considered this. “I know you can take care of yourself. And clearly you have. Still, I regret leaving you to join the Brotherhood. I was…” a _fraid, unsure,_ “stupid,” he decided. 

“You’ve always been stupid. We knew that.” Her anger, justified and brilliant, didn’t come, which did nothing to dismiss his fears. 

“Okay, then. Maybe me leaving didn’t do you any harm. But it did me harm. I missed my best friend, I missed you,” he confessed. 

Arya inhaled and didn’t seem to let it out. Her mind raced with images of her childhood. She finally sighed and entangled her legs with his, wrapping an arm around his middle. “Sometimes I wish we had stayed at that Inn with Hot Pie,” her voice was soft. “Or even at Acorn Hall.” 

“Me too,” he agreed. “But we couldn’t.”

“We couldn’t,” she nodded. 

They lay there against the folds of hay with everything and nothing changed between them. It might be the end of the world, but that didn’t mean they could turn back time. The past was here and it was nowhere, and somehow it had led up to this moment. Gendry resigned himself to getting to spend what were potentially his last hours of life next to Arya. It had to be enough, but he wouldn’t put it past her to survive the whole damn thing. 

They likely only had a few hours left before they had to man their stations for battle, it was hard to tell how much time had passed since he brought Arya the staff. She was breathing smoothly against his skin now, playing absentmindedly with his fingers, which made Gendry feel like he had walked into a dream. 

“Do you want to sleep?” he asked. 

She looked up at him. “Do you?”

Neither of them answered the other, but Arya’s gaze flitted to his mouth, which made him smile, and he pulled her in for another kiss, slow but just as urgent. 

Arya’s hands ran over the skin of his abdomen and around his side, and then she dragged her nails up his back as his mouth found her ear. They shivered simultaneously. Gendry kissed his way down her torso until he found her still warm cunt, dripping slightly from their first go. He glued his mouth between her legs, stroking her thighs with his palms. Arya was moaning again, a beautiful, primal noise. She let him stay there for several minutes, coaxing her out from the inside, his fingers acquainting themselves with her folds. 

She held him at that point until she reached her climax again, digging her heels into Gendry’s back. She immediately pulled him up toward her and greeted his hard cock with her hand once more, and he happily obliged her by plunging into where he had just labored. He cradled her head and moaned into her ear, and she responded with squeezing herself around his shaft. They pushed and pulled at one another, a tangled mess of limbs in the hay, until they both reached their destination again.

Gendry collapsed beside her, wrapping around her from behind. He was starting to feel the pull of sleep. He kissed her shoulder blades, the back of her neck, her hair, and Arya smiled to herself and squeezed his hand. 

His breath was slowing and she knew he would be asleep soon. “Gendry?” 

“Mmm?” came his response. 

“Don’t die tomorrow,” she suggested, no longer with any hint of emotion in her voice. 

“You either, Arya,” he kissed her shoulder again, and was soon asleep. 

 

When he awoke some time later to the sound of the horns calling him to battle, she had gone. 


End file.
